“You heard me,” she said, a becoming blush spreading across her cheeks despite her bold words. “How can we possibly determine if we suit without testing passion? It’s a matter of scientific inquiry.”
He laughed, surprised and delighted by this unexpected side of her. “Scientific inquiry, is it? Well, far be it from me to stand in the way of science.” He leaned closer, his voice dropping to a murmur. “How would you propose we conduct this experiment?”
Her blush deepened, but she met his gaze steadily. “When it feels right. Not forced, not planned. Just…right. We indulge. It’s not as if you can ruin me twice.”
Something shifted between them, a tension that hadn’t been there before, or perhaps it had always been there but hadn’t been acknowledged. Lucien suddenly found himself acutely aware of the fading light, the isolation of the beach, the way her lips parted slightly as she waited for his response.
“Agreed,” he said softly. “All three conditions.”
He could have kissed her then. Part of him wanted to, wanted to bridge the small distance between them and discover if her lips were as soft as they looked, if she would respond with the same surprising boldness she’d shown in making her request.
But it wouldn’t be right. Not yet. Not with the weight of his secret about Ava and Ava-Marie still haunting him.
Instead, he rose to his feet, offering her his hand. “We should head back. The tide will be coming in soon, and dinner will be waiting.”
She took his hand, allowing him to help her up, but didn’t immediately release him. “Lucien,” she said quietly, “I meant what I said about honesty. Whatever happened in Ireland, whatever secrets you’re still keeping, I won’t judge you for them. When you’re ready to share, I’ll listen.”
The simple offer, made with such genuine compassion, nearly undid him. For a moment, he was tempted to confess everything about Ava’s greater deceptions that he’d discovered after her death, about his fear that he might never be capable of the kind of love Courtney deserved. But the truth about Ava-Marie’s birth remained locked away, a secret he’d never reveal.
Instead, he squeezed her hand gently. “Thank you,” he said, the words inadequate for the emotions churning inside him. And to take her mind off of secrets, he pulled her into his arms and kissed her.
He ran the tip of his tongue over her bottom lip. Courtney drew in a deep breath, surprised at her body’s sudden, feminine reaction to his attentions. Her stomach clenched into a tight, silken fist and desire bloomed. His lips worked tenderly over hers. It was as if a strong ocean tide was pulling at her—she knew she wanted to swim, but she was scared she’d drown in the undertow. And she still didn’t know if this man was her savior or a man who could break her heart.
Her mistake was to look into his clear green eyes, for they trapped her with pure heat. Unable to resist, she leaned in, and her tongue slipped out to touch his. At the small sigh that unintentionally escaped from her, the normally cool and contained Lucien disappeared, and with a groan filled with longing, he pulled her deep into an embrace and his lips firmly but gently took hers in a kiss that was—oh, goodness—familiarand different at the same time. It thrilled and frightened her. Frightened her because she was consumed with want and need and hunger... and this was a man who didn’t remember her.
His hands were wrapped tightly in her hair, holding her head exactly right for his invasion. His body pressed into hers, and she welcomed the heat he generated. She felt something hard and long pressing against her stomach; she knew they were going too fast, but his mouth was creating such amazing sensations that she simply pressed closer, wrapping her arms around his neck and whimpering for more.
He gave her more. His tongue thrust deep into her mouth in a dance that demanded she follow. She dueled for dominance, her tongue entering his mouth like a queen at the head of her army. He welcomed the invasion, and another groan echoed deep in his throat as he ground his hardness against her.
This was heaven. She never wanted the kiss to end, but when his clever fingers found her hardened nipple, her knees gave out and she sagged in his arms.
Only then did he break the kiss. He took a deep breath and with his forehead touching hers, he murmured in a voice like smooth brandy, “I’m sorry. I got a bit carried away.”
She thought that a good thing. He desired her. “I guess we can cross off passion and desire as something to test.”
“Or maybe it needs a thorough evaluation while you are visiting.” He set her on her feet and took her hand. “Come. We need to get home before it gets too dark.”
As they made their way back up the cliff path, the setting sun casting long shadows before them, Courtney found herself wondering what the next two weeks might bring. Could he learn to trust again, to open his heart? Because unless he could, Courtney saw no possibility of a future together. Could they build something true and lasting, or would he forever hide himself behind this fortress of fear?
She didn’t know. But for the first time since his arrival back to England, she found herself hoping—truly hoping—that he could find a way forward. But would two weeks be enough time?
Chapter Twelve
The morning sunfiltered through the lace curtains of Courtney’s bedchamber at Danvers Hall, casting delicate patterns across the polished wooden floor. She had woken early, her mind still full of the previous day’s kiss. The memory of Lucien’s hand in hers as they’d walked back to the hall made her pulse quicken even now.
After dressing in a simple morning gown of soft green muslin, she made her way downstairs, hoping to find Serena for a quiet breakfast before the household fully stirred. The corridors were still hushed with early morning tranquility, and she moved quietly, not wanting to disturb the peaceful atmosphere.
As she passed the library, she noticed the French doors leading to the terrace stood ajar, letting in the warm summer air. Voices drifted through the opening—masculine voices engaged in what sounded like serious conversation. She paused, recognizing Julian’s measured tones and Lucien’s deeper voice with its slight Irish inflection.
They must be taking an early morning walk in the gardens, she thought, moving toward the doors to greet them. But something in their tone made her hesitate just inside the library, hidden from view by the heavy velvet curtains.
“The figures are sobering, I’ll grant you,” Julian was saying, his voice carrying the careful neutrality he used when discussingparticularly delicate matters. “But not insurmountable, given proper investment and time.”
“Time is something I have precious little of,” came Lucien’s reply, tinged with frustration. “The creditors grow more insistent by the week. Some have already threatened legal action.”
Courtney’s hand flew to her throat. Legal action? She had thought Rockwell’s loan had kept them at bay.
“How much would you estimate is needed?” Julian asked. “To restore the estate to full productivity and satisfy the immediate debts?”
